Lost Between the Notes
by mudget
Summary: With a sweeping glance as he stood in her doorway, slightly dishevelled, bruised and radiating anger, she pieced together easily enough a summation of what had likely taken place. This time one of them had overstepped the hazy line he and his father courted so frequently. Wheeler back-story.


**Hey hey! So yeah, I'm still around, I've just had very little time to work on anything creative so I'm sorry! Hopefully, with work easing a bit I should have some more time to write and I'll try to get my fics updated and posted. No promises, but I'll try!**

**Anyway, so this was meant to be for the Backstory challenge over on LJ. But uh, I didn't get it finished in time. Better late than never right? I really wanted to explore Wheeler's backstory. I've tried to use as many details from canon as possible, as well as stay true to his character. I started to explore Wheeler in my collection of drabbles _I'm on Fire _and used that as a sort of jumping off point. You can read Ozqueene's take on the Challenge in her 100-Situations collection chapter _Pray_. **

**Some important notes: This is set not too long before he joined the Planeteers, so when he's around 16ish? (He was 17 when he became a Planeteer). So, obviously, it's not going to include any of the Planeteers. It does star Trish, and whether you love her or hate her, there's no denying she played a part in his life. Here, I've interpreted them as much more 'casual' in their relationship, and aren't really boyfriend/girlfriend (at least not at this stage), but they do have a close friendship tied by their backgrounds. For those that might not recall, Wheeler's father is a drunk, and so that plays a significant part of this story. It is a massive part of his character and his background, so that's a point of focus. This will be multi-chap because it's too long to post as a one-shot. Rating shouldn't change much; there won't be anything massively violent or sexual, but I'll give you a heads-up if anything will show up. Only some minor reference to violence and I don't think I even swear in this chap :P I know, right! Oh and also, the title is taken from a Radiohead song, _Jigsaw With a Piece Missing_ which is just so...Wheeler. **

**Enough rambling, enjoy the show! Also, a big shout-out to OzQueene and FrankieAlton for their beta skills and allowing me to bounce ideas off them. And for instructing me in how the American school system works :P  
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"Show me?" Trish squinted in the dim, flickering light. "Could be worse," she said bluntly. Wheeler returned the pack of frozen peas to his jaw. His expression was a mix of disdain and childish sulkiness. Trish couldn't exactly fault him for that, but pandering to his mood would do little to change it, or the events that preceded it.

His temper had cooled since he had first thumped on her door. He rarely dropped in on her after a run-in with his dad; Wheeler had his own way of dealing, she knew. But this time one of them had overstepped the hazy line he and his father courted so frequently. She wouldn't press for details. With a sweeping glance as he had stood in her doorway, slightly dishevelled, bruised and radiating anger, she had pieced together easily enough a summation of what had likely taken place.

She did wonder, though, who had taken the first swing.

Trish scooted from the edge of the saggy bed to lean her back against the wall. She crossed her legs at the ankle, her feet sticking off the side beside Wheeler's thigh. She watched him as he dragged a hand across his eyes, his elbows on his knees and the frozen peas still pressed against his cheek. His broad shoulders were hunched and tense. That tension seemed to follow him lately, as had his bad mood and volatile temper.

Trish nudged Wheeler's leg with her foot. "So, I didn't see you after school yesterday."

He snorted. "Detention."

She shook her head and smirked. "What for this time?"

He shrugged. When he didn't add anything more she held her tongue. After a moment she tugged the back of his shirt. Wheeler glanced over his shoulder at her, and at her expression he unceremoniously dropped the soggy packet onto the nightstand and flopped backwards onto the bed. He tucked his arms beneath his head.

Wheeler stared up at the crackled ceiling, obviously contemplating. A small smile touched her lips. He was so easy to read. His brow had drawn into a furrow and his eyes still held a fiery glint. Her gaze strayed to the red bruise darkening on the point of his jaw.

She tugged his hair. "So. I heard Stephenson was met with an eye-full yesterday morning." She raised an eyebrow at him.

He blinked and peered up at her, his frown sliding away to be replaced by his roguish grin. "Heh," Wheeler chuckled. "You heard about that huh?" He tugged an arm free and scratched his shoulder. He at least had the decency to look slightly abashed. Trish let him simmer in silence for a moment, her brow still raised and an expression that awaited further explanation. The corner of her mouth twitched with amusement.

"So who succumbed to your lame come-ons this time, eh?"

He gave her a look of feigned hurt. "Hey! My pick-up lines aren't that bad!"

She scoffed. "Yeah. They are. I'm not the only one who didn't fall for 'em, Wheeler."

He grinned. "Nah, you fell for my charm and rugged good looks."

Trish laughed throatily. "That's a good one." She chuckled at his frown. "Aw, don't take it to heart, sweetie. You never had a chance with me."

Grinning, he pulled her down beside him. "Oh yeah?" He leaned his face close to hers, tips of their noses touching. His grin remained and his eyes sparkled mischievously. She grinned back and kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Don't change the subject," Trish rebuked. She stretched herself out beside him, and tucked her left arm beneath her head. Her feet didn't quite touch the ground. She absently scratched at her stomach with her free hand, then let it rest there. "So who was it?" When he turned to look at her she shrugged a shoulder. "I didn't hear all the details. Except that Stephenson was pretty flustered and was in a foul mood. I'm pretty sure we got extra homework 'cause of you."

Wheeler winced. "Sorry." He sniggered. "He did look pretty shocked. Probably the first time he's ever seen boobs." At her expression he added, "Don't look at me like that. She still had a bra on. Geez, whatya take me for?" Trish gave him a level look at that. "Hey, it wasn't _my _idea. It was purely for educational purposes."

"Uh huh. _Sure_."

"Who knew that a teacher would come into an unlocked, vacant classroom."

She rolled her eyes. "Is that why you got detention?"

"Nah," he dismissed with a shake of his head. "I just got get a lecture about behaving appropriately and not taking advantage of young women. I don't remember what else he said. Nice that they assume _I_ was taking advantage and not that I was being taken advantage _of_."

She ignored his evasion. "Were you?"

"Weeell," he drawled, "I'd like to say that each party was equally responsible."

"Was she a blonde or a brunette this time?"

He chuckled. "A red-head. Yeah, it would never have worked out between us," he added at her feigned shocked expression. "I think her name was Caitlyn. Or maybe it was Catherine?"

"Kristine?" Trish snorted in disgust. "Her reputation exceeds even yours, Wheeler."

Wheeler glanced to Trish, surprised by the venom in her voice. Her glare was fierce and thankfully aimed at the ceiling. He mentally shrugged at her animosity towards Kristine, and given the set of her jaw decided not to press the topic.

They sat in silence, Trish still silently brooding at the ceiling and Wheeler surrendering to the dull ache that radiated from his jaw. Thankfully the swing had had little strength to it, and was poorly aimed. Still, the bruise it left in its wake was a reminder of how tensions between his father and himself had escalated and how close he had come to letting his own anger take control. It was bad enough that it had finally come to blows.

"How bad was it?" Trish asked quietly after some time. Wheeler looked at her, confused. Her gaze flickered to his cheek. His expression shuttered and he turned away from her. She watched the muscles bunch in his jaw and rolled onto her side to face him, pillowing her arm beneath her head. Even watching his profile she could see the intensity of his glare boring holes into her ceiling.

Things were escalating dangerously between Wheeler and his father. She was worried about Wheeler. He had casually turned aside her questions, but she knew the reason for his detention. She had seen the bruises on his knuckles last week. If things didn't level out soon…

She threaded her fingers through his and leaned her head on his shoulder. He squeezed her hand in response. She felt the tension thrumming through him. Her head rose with his deep sigh.

"Hey Trish? Can we talk about something else?" he asked quietly. He gave her hand another gentle squeeze. "How's that new painting coming along? Any chance of a sneak peek?"

She allowed the conversation to turn. "Urgh, it's not. I think I need to try a different angle. It's not due for a couple more weeks." She shrugged a shoulder. "I'll think of somethin'."

Silence blanketed them. Trish thought Wheeler dozed by his steady breaths and the even, thudding heartbeats reverberating beneath her ear. She started when he finally spoke.

"Hey, would it be cool if I crashed here for the night? Promise I won't snore." She could hear the smile in his voice.

"Yeah, no problem. I'll go grab the spare blanket and pillow." Trish got up to fetch them, but was tugged back. She turned to raise a questioning eyebrow at the red-head.

"Can't I just share your blankets?" He raised his eyebrows suggestively and offered her a lopsided smirk. Trish rolled her eyes. He let her hand go with a grin and she left the room with a shake of her head.

When she returned, her arms laden with a bundle of blankets and a lumpy pillow, she stopped at the doorway with a sigh. Wheeler was stretched out beneath the covers, hands beneath his head, with a smug expression. Her eyes flicked to his garments strewn haphazardly on the floor of her bedroom.

With a rueful smile she dumped the now-useless bedding onto her chair in the corner and stood before him with her hands on her hips. "You better still have boxers on at least."

"Of course! I'm a gentleman, after all." She scoffed at that.

"If you're such a gentleman you wouldn't be lying half-naked in my bed."

Wheeler watched her as she took off her jeans. He marvelled at how she managed to remove her bra without removing her t-shirt, and relished the way her shirt rose just slightly as she eased an arm through one of the straps.

"Scooch over," said Trish, pulling back the corner of the blanket.

Wheeler obliged, and watched her bared legs appreciatively as she climbed in beside him. He waited until she snugged the comforter around her before reminding her, "Light." She groaned and gave him a dirty look, guessing he had intentionally waited. He gave her an innocent grin and made himself comfortable in her bed while she padded over to the light-switch.

He at least had the decency to hold the blankets aside for her so she could slip beneath them.

"No hogging the blankets."

"Then I'll just have to snuggle closer."

"And no funny business. We got a test tomorrow."

"We do? And anyway," he turned onto his side and nuzzled into the nape of her neck, "when's that ever stopped us before?" He slipped his hand under her shirt and smoothed his palm over her hip.

Trish removed his hand with a smirk. "You're not copying off mine. You'll have to schmooze up to some other schmuck."

"Say that ten times fast."

"Night, Wheeler."

He grinned against her neck. "Night, babe."


End file.
